


Oh, you.

by Little_buttercup



Series: Nereval and Nerevar [27]
Category: Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind, Elder Scrolls Online, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 03:21:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14946647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_buttercup/pseuds/Little_buttercup
Summary: Nerevals birth name and origins included.





	Oh, you.

His life was a simple one. He got up, kissed his wife and daughter every morning, then left to sell his produce. The home they lived in wasn’t big, or lavished in any sort of way, but it was comfortable. The merchant life wasn’t always easy, but he made sure his wife and daughter were fed, had a roof over their heads and clothes on their backs. He bought things from the poor, the homeless, gave them money to live off of, and often requested things such as animal hides from them. To give them a job, of some sorts. He never legally hired them, that would be too much hassle. Just pay them for their troubles and they are on their merry way again. 

  
The routine never changed, because he was used to a routine. Doing the same things every day gave him a sense of peace, he kept out of trouble and always sold whatever he could spare at a fair price. It kept him going, it kept his family going, and it didn't break his routine. He was happy this way, he was content. 

  
He met his wife on the streets, her haggling with another merchant amused him to no end, her fiery spirit was refreshing and from what he could tell, she was from Mournhold. At that time, he was born and raised on Vvardenfell and never once stepped foot off the island, it was his home. And he didn’t like change very much.

  
Her insistent pestering had yielded results. He found himself in a tavern, drinking and listening to her yap about her life, he only offered a grunt where it was appropriate, and that became part of his routine. Every two weeks they would meet in the same tavern, drink and share stories. Though she did do most of the story telling.

  
Before he could even blink, time had passed quickly. He found himself married to the woman, and now he held his daughter, bundled in small blankets against his chest. He never saw himself having children, he never even saw himself getting married, but here he was. Holding his child, his daughter, next to his sleeping wife. Gals’sen silently thanked Mother Ayem for such an easy birth, if one could call any birthing process easy.

  
It had all changed when her parents had requested to meet him, the mysterious man who had finally captured their daughters heart. It meant travelling to Mournhold, and he did not like it. This was not part of his routine, he did not want to go. But he never told his wife that. Instead, he followed his wife and daughter, watching his wife tell his daughter about all of her family in Mournhold, how excited their daughter got made it worth it all, seeing her face light up with such excitement.

  
When they arrived, he ushered his wife and daughter to go on ahead of him, that he will catch up in a moment. That was the last time he had saw them as the mer he was, for when he went to meet with a benefactor he was captured, his soul was ripped from him, and his last thoughts as a living mer with a soul was of how unusual this was, how a simple visit had killed him, and depraved his family of the life they could have had together.

He never really thought about them, his adventures with the prophet and companions kept his mind completely occupied. He was never one to fight, if diplomacy could be used he would do all that he could to spare lives, even if that person in particular had ripped him of everything he knew and threw him into the chaos of the fighting world. The defeat of Molag Bal was a bitter one, he didn’t know what to do with himself after that. His routine had changed again, and now he was left to roam. He did not like having nothing to do. 

  
He went back to Vvardenfell, how many years had passed he did not know, but the familiar landscape was comforting. He knew the ways around places like the back of his hand, and it brought back memories of his family. He never mourned, but he was changed. The subtle fire in his eyes had been extinguished, he constantly had the cold, dead look in his eyes. Even if he did have his soul back, his mind wouldnt let him forget the torments of Molag Bals pocket of Oblivion.

  
As the new mer, he had watched his wife barter with another Dunmer, though the price was a little higher than what he would have normally charged, he felt relieved that she kept going. He watched as his daughter fluttered about the garden of the home, and was pleased that she had kept it alive and well, even remembering which places her father had wanted every plant to be in. He left his wife a note, thanking her for raising their daughter into such a beautiful Dunmer, and that they were in his thoughts. He loved them both, oh so dearly, and if he ever got the chance to come home to them, he will.

  
He spent a long time traveling, helping those he could, fighting against the Daedra when he could, with every fighting breath he fought tooth and nail. He hated how most lived in fear of the Daedra, and he hated those that worshipped them even more. But for Meridia and Azura, he made the exception, and by exception, he avoided them at all costs. He met with different races, he fought side by side with them. He mourned the loss when it came and went, but still he kept going. Without stopping, without properly resting, he powered on through the fighting and it wore at him. It chipped at his sanity bit by bit. 

  
It was a long time before he had thoughts of even returning home, it was a lonely night he spent, camping under the stars, when he was being watched. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, but he had learned to ignore it. Mostly it was his imagination, so he turned over and went to sleep.

  
When he awoke during the night to a searing pain in his neck, he didn’t fight back. He was either going to die or he would be turned into one of the night, and he was calm, so calm that it scared him. It was another break in his routine, but it was the last one he finally wanted to go home, his heart was aching for his home, his routine. His normal life.  
After he had adjusted to being a vampire, he never sought out a cure. He sought after his home, and that’s where he went. Back to his wife. His family. Even if he was a stranger now, they accepted him back. Cared for him, sat by his side as he had an unending stream of nightmares. But they were there, never leaving, never faltering in the care for Gals'sen. 

  
But she was old now, it had been a long time since the day he disappeared, and his heart broke a little. The wars were over, the land was in some resemblance of peace, and yet, his heart still ached from all the loss he had suffered. From all the friends he had made, most were dead. The ones who were still alive, were too powerful. Such as Divayth Fyr and Sotha Sil, and some psijic members. Those were the friendships he did value most.

But his wife still remained by his side, his daughter was to be married to a Noble.

  
He didn’t approve, he didn’t want his daughter being caught up in the nasty politics, but he couldn’t deny that the Mer was kind, that he genuinely did love his daughter. So he did not kick up too much of a fuss, but adamantly he protected his daughter and insisted they moved closer to their home. It gave Gals'sen a piece of mind knowing that they weren't too far away, so he awaited for the day they married  

No one questioned his strange sleeping habits, most put it down to the fact that he was terrified of the night, that he could only sleep during daylight hours due to the horrors he had witnessed. They weren’t wrong, but only his wife knew of the truth, and he kept it that way. It was safer for them all if only she knew of what he done during the night. 

  
His wife passed just after their Granddaughter was born, it was to be expected. She had lived for so long, her health was declining and her last wish was to hold the Babe just once, before they had to give her up. She was born out of wedlock, the scandal posed too much of a risk, and Gals’sen had unhealthy habits. It was no place for a young girl to grow up witnessing, so they let her go to another Dummer family who had agreed to raise and look after the girl. His daughter never could conceive again, but they at least had one little joy, one name to carry on when the babe was old enough to understand. 

  
But the rage Gals’sen had felt when he discovered that his little granddaughter was let go, that they couldn’t feed her so they turned her to the streets. He was furious, he turned that anger to finding her. All his contacts, powerful or not, he begged them to find her. But no matter how hard they all tried, none could find her. Even the all powerful, all knowing beings couldn’t help. It was if something or someone was purposely hiding her from them, and that made Gals’sen break. He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried, but oh how he wailed. He remember how much she looked of his wife and daughter, of how strikingly similar to them she was. She was only a child, her chances of survival were slim. His little Galhesie was lost, and so he holed himself up into his home, and closed himself off to the world. Even his own daughter lost contact with him. 

  
He was old, so so old when he next had a visitor. Nereval was a young adventurer, with the same spark in her eyes that he had so long ago. She had sent him so many letters with drawings of her adventures. He doubted she could write, so it was a joy that he eagerly awaited for the next drawing to be delivered to him. It was a routine, and it brought a slight feeling of normality to his life once more.

  
During the years, he had switched between Vvardenfell and Artaeum, his prolonged life meant that there was many things he still remembered, and he made sure that the mages there remembered. Often he would advise them, but as he felt that he was nearing the end, he had to have everything down. From his time in Vvardenfell to the fights he fought atop the Crystal Tower and within the secluded Clockwork City. Someone had to remember. His own memory was starting to fail him.

  
It wasn’t until he returned to Skyrim, seeking the cure to the Vampire side of him, so that he could die and join his wife in the afterlife, did he connect the dots, and Savos was the one who pointed it out.

  
Galhesie was right underneath his nose all this time, under the guise of Nereval, the Nerevarine. He was too blinded by grief to see it, but she was here.

  
And he approved of Nerevar, should they all end in the same place when they die, he would want to see them happy.

 

  
Her grandmother certainly would approve of the Chimer King of Old, and would be eagerly awaiting for them. And he would be too, when his time came. Wherever they ended up, Galhesie had a family. Nereval had a family, whoever she wanted to be, they will be waiting. 

**Author's Note:**

> I did change some things, I think, from previous posts. Just to let you guys know.


End file.
